


One Shot: A Little TLC

by brownskinsugarplum76



Category: Led Zeppelin, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Bedroom Sex, British, California, F/M, Flirting, Football | Soccer, Injury, Kissing, Living Together, Massage, One Shot, Oral Sex, Rock Stars, Semi-Public Sex, Speedos, Sun God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-02-24
Packaged: 2019-11-05 04:15:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17911823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brownskinsugarplum76/pseuds/brownskinsugarplum76
Summary: Robert has suffered a minor injury during a soccer game and is looking to you, his live-in lover, for some healing. You soothe his pains and also give him the pleasure he's looking for.





	One Shot: A Little TLC

You are closing the refrigerator door, with a cold 7-Up bottle in hand for Robert, when he strikes. Literally. He has crept up behind you quietly and has snapped your butt with the towel he was wearing after his shower.

“Dammit, Robert!” you exclaim, almost dropping the bottle. “You scared me!”

“Sorry, love.” He throws the towel over his shoulders. “Let me take that from you,” he says, his hand dwarfing the glass bottle. He dislodges the cap with a lighter on the marble counter and drinks half the bottle at once.

“Feeling better after your shower?” you ask, thoroughly entertained by the sight of your naked beau polishing off a bottle of soda. He has just returned from a soccer game with Rod Stewart and others. The match wasn’t all fun, though. You learned that the game (during which Robert and a few other proud souls stripped down to Speedos or the tiniest of shorts) was closely monitored and documented by a zealous photojournalist, and then Robert sustained a minor injury.

“I feel a little better,” he admits. “And, thankfully, it won’t require another extended stay in a wheelchair. But someone promised me a massage, I believe?” He throws the empty bottle in the trash and backs you against the refrigerator, resting his hands on your shoulders and kissing you. The chill of his tongue from the rapidly consumed soda is enticing, as is the feel of your thighs, exposed in your short, pink terrycloth romper, against the cool refrigerator. For Robert, it seems, the pain will have to wait while there is pleasure to be had.

“I did make that promise,” you murmur, placing your hands on his chest.

“Good! I’m here for my appointment. Shall I take you to your studio, then?” He scoops you up into his arms and heads to the bedroom, although his gait is a little more labored than usual.

***

Robert is on top of the royal blue bedsheets, face down. The curtains, in a similar blue, are out of the way, the balcony door is open, and afternoon sunlight floods the bedroom, along with a gentle breeze. The ocean’s rolling whisper is audible beyond. The room is dazzling from the sun and the cheerful pastel yellow walls, a golden pleasure room for a golden god.

“It feels a little better, but think I twisted something when I was turning to confront the bloody paparazzo,” he explains.

“Where does it hurt?”

“You can’t see it right now, but it’s positively aching for your touch… I’m a bit blue about the situation, to be honest.”

“Robert! I’m serious.”

“You can’t blame me for trying, eh? You’ve successfully cured my… distress… many, many times.” He sighs. “Very well, today’s soccer injury is back here.” He motions to the hamstring area of one of his legs.

“Poor baby,” you say in a soothing voice, kissing the sore area.

Robert purrs as he arches into your kiss. “That sure helps a little more…”

You grab the bottle of baby oil off the nightstand and warm a generous amount in your hands. The two of you have indulged in its sexy, shiny slickness in happier times, but it will have to do for impromptu therapeutic purposes.

Deciding on a full body massage with a hamstring focus, you glide your hands down the backs of his thighs, gently at first, but then with more pressure.

Once his legs are thoroughly coated, you zero in on the sore area, grinding into it with your thumb and then the heel of your hand.

He groans, tenses his leg, and then relaxes it several times while you work on the area.

“How’s that now?” you ask moments later.

“So much better. Thank you, love.”

You switch your attention to the rest of Robert’s body, massaging the other leg, then his calves and feet. You tend to his ass next, and then add more oil to your hands to tackle his neck, shoulders, and back. His constant moans, sighs, and squirming on the bed are communicating his satisfaction clearly.

After a while, you straddle him and kiss the side of his neck. “Time to turn over, Prince Charming,” you whisper in his ear before giving him space to move.

He rolls over slowly, and his blissful, sleepy expression explains why it’s taking him so long.

“Mmmmm, I can’t wait to have you and those delightful hands with me on our next tour.” His eyes dance with gratitude. The two of you met while he was healing from his car accident, and you are looking forward to traveling with him and seeing him perform live soon.

You straddle him again and skate a finger down his nose. “Just my massage hands?” you reply with a smile.

“You’re right. You’ll have plenty of other uses: rolling joints, detangling my hair, waiting for me during the intermissions…” You can tell he’s teasing you by his tone.

You huff playfully. “I think this massage is over,” you say, faking a departure from his thighs.

But he grips your hips before you can get far. “No, it wouldn’t only be for your hands, or any caregiving you’d like to bless me with. I need your smile, your merciless teasing, your fascinating trains of thought and conversations, your fun spirit. You. All of you. And her,” he adds. His hand was crawling up your thigh, inside of your shorts, while he was talking, and now he has engaged your warm center with a finger.

“I’m flattered.” You give him a kiss. “But how about we get through this massage first, cowboy?” You rise to your knees and slap his thighs.

“Yes, ma'am,” he drawled in an exaggerated American accent.

“OK. Close your eyes.”

He complies, and you snake your fingers into his damp hair, massaging his scalp with the pads of your fingers. Any signs of tension in his face have melted away. A tiny smile lingers on his lips, and his chest moves up and down gracefully with his breath.

You move on to massaging his temples, and your action sustains his relaxed state of enjoyment.

After oiling your hands, you rub away the knots in his neck and shoulders.

“Mmmmm, I could stay here forever,” he says softly, as if close to sleep.

“I like the sound of that,” you whisper in his ear, before kissing him passionately. You are ready to move on to the next phase of soothing his body.

You stand to remove your clothes, and Robert keeps his eyes shut. Back on the bed, you lay on top of him, skin to skin.

“I like where this is going,” he says, gazing into your eyes and caressing your hair and your shoulders. He kisses you this time, a slow, soulful kiss that almost makes you forget that you have taken on the responsibility of his pleasure this afternoon.

Robert’s taut, tanned body becomes a playground for your hands and mouth. The sight of his ripples and ridges and his more rounded areas turn you on to distraction.

But the glee you feel from giving your all with the massage morphs to flaming desire now that you are ready to tackle his manhood with a different kind of attention. Illuminated by the steady stream of sun, his cock, which is dewy at the tip and exquisitely hard, looks more enticing than usual.

You start by slowly licking his full length, then his balls. It is another way to give him the TLC that he needs, and you are enjoying your efforts and his reaction. Then you drag your tongue around his sensitive head until both of you are dizzy with lust.

When neither of you can stand it anymore, you devour a substantial portion of his cock, tasting it, teasing it, thrusting your mouth up and down on it, while your hands twist and tighten gradually.

“Fuck, love,” he says through clenched teeth as he undulates against your face. You keep going, and he holds your head in place as his hips buck more strongly.

“Your hands… Your mouth… I…” Instead of finishing his thought, a ragged wail escapes from his lips. He is taking hungry breaths through his open mouth.

“I need her. Now.” Robert’s jawline is tense as he growls his command. He rolls you onto your back and his tongue swims in your sex, which is already soaked through from your enjoyment of pleasuring him.

The throbbing sensations that permeated your body earlier are almost beyond tolerable now that Robert has taken over. He assaults your sensitive bud with velvety licks that make you lose control. The release that comes is not a moment too soon.

He stands and asks you to get up. He lifts you, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. “You’ve cured me of one aliment, and now,” he says, entering you once he has you pressed to a wall, with his hands firmly supporting your ass, “how about another?”

The feeling of him hungrily buried inside of you while he protectively cradles your body against gravity is sublime, as is the roar of his hot breath in your ear. Your vantage point has the sun almost in your eyes, and when you shut them, you can easily imagine it’s Apollo himself goading your essence toward abandon, and beyond, until the two of you are simply passion, light, energy, heat, an existence bigger and more vibrant than your bodies could ever contain. Your life’s will at the moment is to remain in this pleasurable, celestial void, primally connected to the man with whom you’ve been sharing a bed for the past few months. When you open your eyes and see Robert’s are closed, with a stern look of deep concentration on his face, you know that he must feel the same.

You stare some more at his face and its classic masculine structure. As if he feels your stare, he opens his eyes and you encounter the softer part of his allure, his wide-eyed, feline gaze. These things are at unexpected, yet attractive odds, along with his abundant, glowing locks and his strong body. He is a work of art. He is your work of art. And that knowledge entices you to press on, to quench your need for him with wanton sensual gluttony.

“Shit, what’s gotten into you, baby?” Your intensified thrusting has not gone unnoticed, and Robert leans further into you and the wall, in a feverish attempt to extract more pleasure from your body as well.

The sensations are overwhelming, almost unbearable for both of you. You don’t think you’ve ever moaned so loudly in your life. Robert’s perfect face has gone ruddy from his exertion as incoherent noises escape his lips. It feels like the two of you could go on forever, feeding lustily off of each other’s energy with no cares to time or place, but your bodies have other plans, exploding into euphoric shocks and tremors moments later.

Robert backs away from the wall, and his iron grip becomes a delicate embrace that provides a soft landing for the turbulent, high-flying passion that preceded this moment. He walks back to the bed, gently places you on it, and sidles up next to you contentedly, a giddy lion cub who has been sated by your nurturing provision. You kiss and stare wordlessly into each other’s eyes until he falls asleep.


End file.
